Fairy Tale: Winter's Bite

Chapter 25: Oh, Brother (Part 3)

The day dragged on.

And the sun never made an appearance. Without it, the swirling colors of Scott MacRae's tunnel were muted against the backdrop of rain and thick gray clouds.

Joe maintained an uncharacteristic silence, and Cassie occasionally let out a muffled sob. When at last Chris met the barrier of their exit, Cassie wiped away some lingering tears and followed him to the outside.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Immediately, Cassie sensed the air was heavily laced with danger.

She gasped.

The trees and vines above her were spinning, collapsing. Still, she walked on, following Chris, but every step felt like a mistake.

Then she saw them flitting between the branches. She could barely mutter, "Chris," before the first Crown Champion landed in front of him.

Chris stepped back and drew two swords. Joe and Cassie backed against him.

Soldiers rained down on them. Their mercenaries, Modified to human size, marched in as well, forming an impassable outer circle.

Without taking his eyes off the enemy, Chris grabbed Joe around the neck and whispered, "Run with her. Get help."

As soon as she overheard the words, Cassie ducked below a soldier's sword arm and dodged the Gray Coat's giant feet that stomped down to block her.

Under a log, through a tuft of grass, and then she checked over her shoulder. Joe was the only one following her and she reached a speed she'd never used before, never needed before.

When she arrived at the stream, she stopped and looked back. "Joe?"

He was no longer with her.

Cassie hesitated, just a moment, knowing her priority was to escape even if it meant leaving Joe behind.

Her instincts told her she was a little west of the tunnel's opening, so she followed the water the way she knew was east. Soon, she spotted a familiar boulder; she was in the right place.

Shuffling toward it, with the password on the tip of her tongue, there came a hard strike to her back. She fell on all fours. As she tried to rise, she skidded in the mud and landed back on her knees.

There was a break in the rain and the dreary daylight fell to shadow as something with a massive wingspan coasted over her.

Crux Chevalier, the Brute, landed before her as she stood. He had swords, weapons, metal dangling all over him, but from his belt he pulled a blood-caked hunting knife.

"Cassiopeia . . . darling! Oh, how I've missed you!" he bellowed while grabbing for her hands.

He caught one of her hands but missed the other one. She swung her palm up and smacked him across the cheekbone.

His face contorted with ugly amusement. He squeezed her trapped wrist until she buckled from the pain. With his free hand, he slapped her back, hitting her across the ear and eye, the whole side of her head.

Stars danced through her cloudy vision. All she could hear was rushing water.

She couldn't help it. She began to crumble. He punched her head again with a closed fist on her decent, making sure the lights were out before she hit the ground.

When her eyes fluttered open, moments or minutes later, perhaps longer—she wasn't certain—she was on her back. Crux's face was in hers. Her body was trapped underneath the full weight of his. She tried to squirm her hands free, but they were pinned over her head in his unmovable, left-handed grip. The more she struggled, the harder he pressed his bulk against her.